


Tale of Two Brothers and a Promise

by HappyBirddi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood, Broken Bones, Budding Love, Dog dies off screen, Drama, Felix is a good friend, Flashback, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Miklan is a bad brother, Sad, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 12:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21428173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyBirddi/pseuds/HappyBirddi
Summary: For a very long time, it felt like Sylvain lived with two different brothers. One was the kinder, even supportive Miklan that the young noble wanted to believe existed, while the other one was the one Sylvain feared. It was also the side that no one really saw. Not Dimitri, not Ingrid, not his parents, not even Glenn or Rodrigue. The only one who did was Felix, but it took him years to really piece it together.(This is a short story that will be featured in a later chapter in the story Gilded Sanctuary)
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 10
Kudos: 136





	Tale of Two Brothers and a Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a short story I felt the urge to write, and it will appear later down the line in the story Guilded Sanctuary, which I am writing currently with EldritchGremlin (who graciously edited the crap out of this and helped fix all my terrible grammar errors, so thank you to her)
> 
> Link to that story is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023678/chapters/50003165
> 
> This will be a chapter that shows up later in the story, but I felt the urge to post it now to see how it'd do. So I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> A lot of this story was loosely inspired by @guessibetter on Twitter. Specifically, two of their pictures, though the roles are reversed in the first one. They draw amazing art that I LOVE, so check them out.
> 
> Picture 1: https://twitter.com/guessibetter/status/1189029591572197376
> 
> Picture 2: https://twitter.com/guessibetter/status/1188668859097763840

Sylvain

╚═════════ ∘◦ ♞ ◦∘ ═════════╝

When Sylvain was maybe ten years old, he had asked his parents for a dog. He had wanted one for a while, and his parents didn’t really think too long on it before gifting him with what he asked for, as always. It was a beautiful Bernese puppy; soft black, white, spotted with brown fur that happily licked at Sylvain’s face when he held it.

He thinks he named her something like Nuray, which was a word he had learned from Glenn while he was traveling. But he couldn’t be certain. He does remember though, how much he loved that dog, as short of a time he had her. He remembers Felix wasn’t a big fan after the dog playfully bit Felix’s fingers when he tried to pet her, causing him to cry a bit. He remembers Dimitri and Ingrid taking turns passing her around, and Sylvain remembered trying to train her to sit on command and to fetch a ball as practice for hunting.

Then he remembers coming back from visiting Felix one day… and Nuray was gone. Sylvain had looked, calling the dog’s name and running through the woods looking for her, afraid she had gotten stuck somewhere. Hours passed, and he remembers crying at the loss of that dog.

And then Miklan came to his side as Sylvain sobbed on the steps of the family estate. The older brother sat next to Sylvain and lightly patted his back, “Don’t worry, Sylvain. She’s probably with a different owner, being taken care of.”

Sylvain cried harder, thinking that he had been a terrible owner and that’s why the dog had run away. Then he caught a glimpse of a smirk on Miklan’s face, but only for a brief second before the older brother went back out to ‘search’ for the boy’s dog.

But Sylvain dismissed it. Denying to himself that Miklan was a good brother and that he wasn’t what he thought he was. Sylvain never saw that dog again. And when his parents said they’d get him another, he had refused. He knew, deep down, that even if he got another dog the same thing would happen.

For a very long time, it felt like Sylvain lived with two different brothers. One was the kinder, even supportive Miklan that the young noble wanted to believe existed, while the other one was the one Sylvain feared. It was also the side that no one really saw. Not Dimitri, not Ingrid, not his parents, not even Glenn or Rodrigue. The only one who did was Felix, but it took him years to really piece it together.

One of the first memories that Sylvain had was when he had to be maybe five or six. He remembers following Miklan early one morning into the cold under the guise of fishing. Miklan had smiled at Sylvain, telling him to come along. And Sylvain, young, naive, and foolish, did as asked with a stupid grin on his face.

The Gautier estate was surrounded by sprawling pine trees that seemed to touch the sky, and in the early winter, the grounds were already covered in frost. Further away from their home was a stone well that hardly had water in it, and so deep that you couldn’t even see the bottom of it.

“I think I see something down there,” Miklan had told Sylvain. “Take a closer look.”

Sylvain, stupid and foolish, did as asked; pulling himself over the side of the well, sticking his head into the opening and squinting against the darkness.

“I don’t see anything-.”

He felt something hit the back of his head, hard. And the next thing Sylvain remembered was falling. He had screamed and clawed at the empty air to try and catch himself.

_ Crack. _

Sylvain let out a wail as he hit the bottom, pain exploded through his nerves and body like he was on fire. There was a ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t see out of his right eye as blood ran from a cut on his eyebrow. His right arm, the one he landed on, felt numb. He tried to move his fingers, only to feel such a blinding, searing pain shooting through his body that he felt like he was going to pass out. He was soaked too, as the snow had collected at the bottom of the well and cushioned his fall somewhat. It was likely the only reason why he didn’t die from the fall.

“Sylvain!” Miklan called down from above.

“M-Miklan…” Sylvain sobbed, struggling to push himself upright with one arm. “My arm… it really hurts-!” He felt another sharp pain ripping through his body and he felt tears running down his cheeks.

Miklan stared down, his expression blank, “I’ll be right back, I’ll go get help.”

Sylvain watched his brother leave, holding his shattered arm close to his body and shaking from the shock and cold.

And he waited, watching the sky grow lighter and lighter as the morning slowly started to diminish. Sylvain screamed for Miklan, begging for his brother to come back. Crying for someone, anyone, to help him.

At some point, something clicked into place in Sylvain’s head. The next moment, he was screaming and clawing at the cold stone walls until his fingernails were broken and bleeding. He pounded his fist against the walls, his arm hurt so much and he felt so helpless. Eventually, he was too tired and too dehydrated to cry anymore and resorted to huddling over himself and shaking. He was so cold and in so much pain, he just wanted to rest.

Though that was nothing compared to the feeling of hollow despair that ate at his mind. He was going to die there, and no one was coming for him.

This well would be his tomb.

At least, that’s what he thought. But it seemed like the goddess had other plans.

Felix and his brother Glenn had decided to stop by that day, Felix practically lived there anyway so it wasn’t too surprising that their carriage came by. The moment it came to a stop, Felix ran towards the estate with his brother and father trailing behind.

When Felix had asked Miklan where Sylvain was, the older brother played innocent. Lying right to their faces without so much as flinching.

“He’s probably in his room,” He had said, “I haven’t seen him all day, but you can wait to see if he’ll come back.”

Rodrigue and Glenn had believed it, but Felix couldn’t help but notice the shadow of a smirk on Miklan’s face as he spoke.

Felix had a bad feeling the more time passed and slipped out of the house to look while Rodrigue and Glenn talked to Miklan for a bit. The young boy’s feet crunched against the snow as he walked through the tall pine trees, calling out Sylvain’s name.

“Sylvain?” He yelled into the cold air, only to be answered by the birds and wind, “Hey, Sylvain! Where are you?”

As the boy walked further and further, he got more and more worried. 

“Sylvain?”

Suddenly, breaking through the sound of the wind, he heard a sob.

“Felix…?”

The Fraldarius boy’s heart began to beat rapidly. He ran, screaming the boy’s name out, “Sylvain?! Sylvain!”

“I’m here…”

Felix ran in the direction, only to come across an old well. He ran to the side of it, looking down and seeing the flash of Sylvain’s red hair at the bottom.

“Sylvain!”

The red-haired boy squinted up at the edge of the well, his throat sore and in pain. “Fe… Felix…”

He began to cry again.

At the sight of his friend crying, Felix felt his own eyes begin to burn with tears. “H-Hold on, I’m coming down!”

Sylvain shook his head, “No, you’ll get stuck too.”

“Can you climb?”

“My arm really hurts, I think it’s broken.” The boy held his arm gingerly.

Felix began to panic, “I-I’ll get Glenn!”

Before the boy could leave, Sylvain suddenly cried out, “D-Don’t leave me, please!”

“I promise, I’ll be right back.”

Sylvain was shaking, “P-Promise…?”

“I _ promise. _”

The red-haired boy was quiet as Felix ran back to the house. Thankfully, Glenn and Rodrigue had stepped outside looking for Felix, and they heard the young boy’s screams for help and ran after the boy.

Through panicked sobs, Felix pointed them towards the well. Rodrigue and Glenn ran for the well, and Glenn was easily able to climb down the walls, scoop up the scared noble child in his arms, and pass him up to Rodrigue.

The second Sylvain was set on the ground, Felix almost knocked him over with an embrace, sobbing loudly. Sylvain, in his shock, grabbed onto Felix like a lifeline and cried into his friend’s chest. Not because he was glad to be saved, but because Felix had kept his promise.

“How did this happen?” Rodrigue asked the red-haired boy the moment he was out of the well.

Glenn was easily able to pull himself out and backed his father up, “Sylvain, what happened?”

Sylvain hesitated, not wanting to get Miklan in trouble. He had convinced himself that this was his fault, so he lied and said, “I-I fell… I was playing and I fell.”

Felix knew that Sylvain was lying, but didn’t understand why.

He did that a lot, looking back. Lying and making up excuses for his brother’s actions. Those bruises were always Sylvain’s fault, the cut on his face was just an accident, everything was fine at home. He felt guilty for being born with a Crest and blamed himself for Miklan’s hatred. In a way, he thought he deserved it for taking away his brother’s future.

Now he just felt stupid for not realizing just how serious his brother was about killing him. Not until he almost got that wish.

Miklan and Sylvain, when the younger brother had to be maybe fourteen or fifteen, had gone out into the mountains for a short hunting trip. Sylvain had a bad feeling about it and didn’t want to be left alone with his brother. But Miklan had just smiled and ensured his younger brother that it’d be fine. A good opportunity to bury the hatchet between them, or some crap like that.

Sylvain should’ve just stuck with his gut feeling. But sadly, he was just a little too trusting. He knew better now, but then? How foolish he was to have ignored the signs of a blizzard on the horizon, and to not have listened to Felix’s concerns about the two going alone.

Looking back, Sylvain wished he had the spine to say no. Or at least, ask Felix and Glenn to go with them. But he didn’t, and the two brothers took their horses and headed for the depths of the Gautier mountains.

It took a full day and a half to get to the supposed spot, there was nothing but giant pine trees and hills of snow to be seen for miles. The frozen wind practically felt like a blade on Sylvain’s face and hands, and there had been no sign of any animals the entire day.

“We should go back.”

“I have a good feeling we’ll find something soon,” Miklan insisted.

That bad feeling kept growing the more they traveled, the excuses got more and more flimsy and the oncoming storm became more obvious. The sea of pine trees here were unfamiliar, and the wind blowing through them resembled the screams of the dead.

Eventually, Sylvain had had enough, “We need to go back or we’ll get caught in that storm!”

Miklan had stopped his horse then, and for a long, tense moment Sylvain didn’t even know if his brother had heard him.

“Miklan, we need to go back,” Sylvain repeated, louder this time, “We’re obviously not going to find anything out here. We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

Slowly, Miklan looked back at his brother. Sylvain remembered flinching at the look his brother gave him, that blank and unfeeling expression that felt colder than the wind.

“Miklan…?” Sylvain stared at his brother, his voice timid.

His brother smiled again, but there was no warmth or comfort in it.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…”

“No, let’s go back. You’re right, we’re pretty far away.”

Sylvain felt no relief that his brother had agreed to the plan. He was an idiot for thinking that everything was fine, and an even bigger idiot to turn his back on Miklan as he tried to turn his horse to go back.

He didn’t even hear Miklan withdraw his lance, and didn’t even see the blow coming as he threw the weapon at Sylvain’s horse. The animal let out a horrible cry of pain and fell over, taking Sylvain with him down the slight incline of the slope. Sylvain screamed out, falling from the back of the animal and rolling down the hill painfully.

The world passed by in short images, and he didn’t even feel pain as he fell. Only really registering when he eventually came to a stop several feet down the hill. His body was aching, but thankfully nothing felt broken. He was covered in snow and frantically tried to wipe the ice from his eyes.

“Why did you do that?!” Sylvain had yelled, trying to focus his attention back up the hill.

Miklan was gone. Just… gone. One minute he was standing there with that same smirk, the next he was gone.

“Miklan?!” Sylvain called out for his brother. Nothing but the wind responded to him. That same feeling of panic from being left behind in the well came back, and Sylvain desperately climbed his way up the hill to get back. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t. It was too steep and there was no good hold to grab onto. He realized just how serious the situation was; he was alone in the middle of a blizzard, his brother was gone and he had no idea where he was going.

“_ Miklan! _” He called out for his brother’s name and got no response.

But he didn’t want to die yet. So he got whatever he could carry from his dead horse and tried to walk back the way they came.

Hours passed likely, and the storm only got worse. The wind was a razor blade against the young noble’s face, and putting too much pressure on one of his knees caused a sharp sting of pain to go through his body. Every step felt like stepping on broken glass, each motion sending pain through his body. Sylvain was used to cold winters like this, but even he knew he couldn’t last too long out here alone. He’d freeze to death before he found the estate.

Eventually, the sky grew dark and the snow was blinding the noble. The trees started to become little more than dark silhouettes, and the cold was biting at Sylvain’s core. Cold, afraid, and exhausted, he had no choice but to find a place to wait for the morning.

There was very little cover in these stranger woods, nothing but trees and piles of snow. So Sylvain had to resort to picking one tree to lean his back against the wind and to build the poorest excuse for a fire ever, using whatever dry branches he could find. If it wasn’t for the fact that Sylvain had at one point read a little bit on how to create fire with magic, he probably would have died. Thankfully, he remembered that, and was able to get a spark going. The rebound burned his fingertips, however. But he would gladly be burned again to avoid freezing to death.

And he waited, staring at the small pile of flames dancing in the wind, shaking from the cold. He should’ve been afraid, and he was. But that same ache of despair blocked out any feelings of fearing death at that moment.

He wished that Miklan had just told him that he hated his brother and didn’t lie about it. Sylvain was so sick of the fake smiles, the fake words of comfort, just pretending that everything was fine. He’d be okay with his brother just outright hating him, at least he’d know. But to be lied to, again and again, to be toyed with, it hurt more than anything Miklan could hit him with.

How stupid he had been. So stupid and naive to think that his brother, his parents, anyone really, saw him as a Crest bearer to either despise or to treat as an object.

Stupid, naive… and foolish. But in a world filled with people wearing masks, there was only one person that Sylvain knew, deep down, was not like that. 

Felix never wore fake smiles like Miklan or his parents did. If there was one person Sylvain could count on to be the real thing, it was Felix.

Funny now, thinking back to those hours Sylvain spent alone on that mountain. He spent that time just thinking about Felix. He was a bit of a crybaby back then, but he was reliable. He came back for Sylvain when he was stuck in that well, and he was the one person who could see through Miklan’s facade. Sylvain was afraid, but he somehow knew that Felix wouldn’t be fooled if his brother lied about losing Sylvain.

He had a feeling, whether he died or not on this mountain, Felix would come looking.

And he did. Miklan had returned home in those hours, putting on the act of panic that he had lost Sylvain on the trip. Glenn, Rodrigue, and Felix had arrived during the day and were waiting for the brothers to come home. Sylvain’s father was furious at Miklan, screaming at how he lost their favorite son. Those were his exact words, apparently. 

Even Rodrigue was angry, demanding to know what the hell had happened on the trip. But Miklan kept up the act, playing the act of a good brother. However, at this point, not even Glenn could ignore these behaviors. Felix and Rodrigue were shocked to watch the older brother take two steps towards Miklan, and punch the brother across the face. Miklan fell to the ground like a tree, his nose broken and bleeding heavily. Miklan cursed and spat at Glenn, but the knight stood like a statue guarding the Eternal Flames, unphased and fuming with silent fury.

After Rodrigue had yelled Glenn’s ear off, a search party was organized by the older brother and father, and Felix had been told to stay put. Hearing this story from Felix years later, Sylvain still laughed. Did they really expect that Felix Hugo Fraldarius was _ actually _going to listen to them?

Of course, he didn’t. As much of a crybaby as Felix was back then, he was one stubborn dastard even then. So the moment Felix knew his father and brother was gone, he took his jacket among other things, took his sword, took a horse, and went out into the storm on his own.

As Felix told him, the wind was absolutely terrible; the snow kept getting in Felix’s eyes, and he had to light two torches to illuminate the darkness. The skies were pitch black, and the young swordsman was constantly looking for signs of wolves or bears in those trees. Hours passed, and Felix was absolutely freezing as his horse went deeper and deeper into the mountain.

Maybe there really was a goddess, because as the swordsman recalled he suddenly knew that he was looking in the wrong place. He can’t explain why, but he somehow knew to take a different route than what the other search party had gone down. 

Another few hours later, and Sylvain’s ears picked up on someone calling his name. By that point, though, he was frozen numb. It hurt to move, his fingers felt frozen in place, and Sylvain was on the border of losing consciousness. Still… he heard his name.

“Sylvain!”

That was definitely Felix’s voice. The noble looked in the direction slowly, his body heavy and cold.

“Felix...?” He more or less croaked the name, but it was loud enough for Felix to stop his horse and to go in the direction of the voice.

Felix got off his horse, pulling off a somewhat dry blanket and running towards the huddled-over noble.

“Sylvain, oh hells you must be freezing!” Felix dropped by Sylvain’s side and threw the cover over his friend’s body. “Are you okay?!”

Sylvain stared at his friend for a long moment, and then let out a long, rattled sigh. “I’m sorry…”

“Wh-Why the hell are you apologizing?!” 

“I made you come all the way out here looking for me.”

That was probably the first time Sylvain saw Felix get angry. The noble’s face morphed into an expression similar to whenever Glenn got frustrated with something, and he grabbed Sylvain’s shoulders.

“You idiot!” He cried, “You’re not supposed to apologize for getting lost! It’s Miklan’s fault for leaving you behind! Why do you keep apologizing for shit you didn’t do?!”

Sylvain blinked in surprise, never having heard the typically easy-going boy swear. Probably something he learned from Glenn. “I-”

Felix glared at him. In the low firelight, Sylvain also saw that the swordsman was crying again, “Sylvain… I keep asking you if you’re okay, and you always say that you are. But are you really? You show up with bruises and cuts on your face every other week, you apologize for things that you didn’t do and don’t think I don’t notice how you’re scared of Miklan. Do you think I’m stupid or something?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid!” Sylvain cried.

“Then why are you keeping quiet about all this?!” Felix snapped back.

“Because Miklan is my brother! He’s not normally like this!”

“Brothers don’t act like this, Sylvain!” Felix shook his friend harshly, causing Sylvain to let out a yelp in pain that caused Felix to let him go suddenly, “S-Sorry…”

Sylvain hung his head. “I’m so-”

“If you’re about to apologize again, don’t.” Felix pointed at him harshly, causing Sylvain to go quiet.

Silence fell over the two young nobles, but then Felix let out a loud sneeze and sniffled, “It’s freezing out here… we should go back.”

Sylvain shrank under the blanket, “Is Miklan waiting back home?”

“Yeah, I had to sneak past him.”

“So he went home without me…”

The two were quiet again, and Felix sat next to his friend by the dying fire. Sylvain adjusted the blanket over the swordsman’s shoulders, and they got closer in an attempt to keep each other warm.

“Do you want to talk about something?” Felix asked, staring at the fire, “I mean, we’re out here anyway. Might as well.”

Sylvain rested his chin against his knees, internally debating with himself, “I think Miklan hates me.”

“I see,” Felix wasn’t surprised.

“But I don’t blame him for hating me.”

“What?” Felix turned his head at Sylvain.

“I took away his future, Felix. I’d hate me too.” Sylvain’s voice was steady, and now that he had said it out loud it felt more real. “I didn’t ask to be born with this stupid Crest. And because I have it, Miklan hates me. My parents? Those nobles? They’re fakes. They’re _all_ fakes. I’m not a person to any of them, I’m just a Crest. And Miklan? I don’t blame him for hating me. I mean… my parents ignore him or yell at him, and they always compare him to me.

He buried his face in his arms, trembling. “Maybe… Maybe I should just-”

“Don’t,” Felix cut him off, his voice unnaturally steady, “Whatever thought you were about to have, don’t.”

Sylvain looked up at his friend, fresh tears on his frozen cheeks, “Would you even be my friend if I was born without a Crest?”

“Well obviously!” Felix stated, “I’ve known you since we were babies and dad comes up here so frequently with Glenn and me, so of _ course _I’d still be your friend even if you were born without a Crest. Why would I not be? That’s something that was going to happen regardless. But being born with a Crest is no excuse for anyone to beat you up.”

Sylvain scoffed and stared back at the flames.

“I mean it,” Felix glared, “It doesn’t matter the excuse, no one deserves to be treated like this.”

The young Fraldarius looked at the trees, “Sylvain… what if one of these days he goes too far? Are you going to apologize for that?”

“What does that mean?”

Felix looked to his friend, “Aren’t you afraid he could, you know…”

“Kill me?” Sylvain let out a dark laugh, “Well, he’s already tried so many times.”

“That’s not something to joke about.”

“Why not? I feel like that could be a joke,” Sylvain was trembling, “It can be something I can look back on and laugh at, ‘my brother would’ve killed me if he got the chance’.”

“He’s not going to get that chance,” Felix stated bluntly.

“Why not?”

“Because… because…” Felix shook his head. “Because we’re going to die at the same time.”

Sylvain gave a look to his friend as if he had suddenly started speaking gibberish, “What?”

Felix looked serious, “Let’s make a promise, right here and now. You’re not allowed to die before me.”

“Why promise that?”

Felix made a face, “I mean, I’m going to probably be a knight like Glenn. So I’ll have to fight for Dimitri when he’s king. I’ll probably have to go into a lot of dangerous battles, and I could get killed.”

Sylvain shook his head suddenly, “N-No way, I don’t want you to die!”

“And I don’t want _ you _ to die,” Felix threw back, “So that’s why we should promise we have to die at the same time. That way, neither of us is ever going to be left without the other.”

The two boys were quiet as they processed their possible futures. Maybe Felix just said it out of a need to give Sylvain a reason to live, but looking back years later Sylvain remembers that his heart suddenly beat twice as fast hearing those words. He even wonders to this day what exactly Felix meant by that; was it just a promise between friends or was it meant for something more… intimate?

Regardless, Sylvain knew that Felix was serious about that promise. The young Fraldarius boy pulled out his sword and made a thin cut on his palm. It bled a little bit, but then he stuck out his hand to Sylvain.

“Gross,” Sylvain stuck out his tongue at Felix.

Felix made a face, “What, are you too chicken shit to deal with a bit of blood?”

“What? No! Where did you even learn that word anyway?!”

“Glenn taught me. It’s a word used for people like you,” The swordsman held the sword out to Sylvain, waiting.

Sylvain smirked a bit as he took the sword, “Honestly, what do you take me for?”

“An idiot.”

“I’m not the one who went into a storm alone- ow-!” He yelped as he pressed his own hand into the blade.

“A scoundrel and an idiot.”

A small line of blood formed on Sylvain’s palm, and he cringed at the possibility of them both contracting some kind of disease from this stupid pact. As he reached for Felix’s hand, the noble pulled it back.

He gave a serious look to Sylvain, “Once you agree to this, you’re not allowed to break it. It’s permanent.”

Sylvain was quiet, staring at Felix’s face. Again, his heartbeat suddenly beat twice as fast. The young Gautier smiled softly, and tightly gripped Felix’s warm, bloody hand.

“I swear on my life.”

Felix cracked a smile, “I swear on my life. Til’ death do us part.”

It was probably the last time Sylvain ever saw Felix smile.

The two nobles eventually got up, with Felix having to assist Sylvain. His limbs were frozen, and his knee hurt when he put pressure on it. Regardless, Felix helped his friend get on the horse and the two started the long road home.

They knew they were in trouble though; Sylvain struggled to keep awake, and Felix had to hold onto his friend tightly and force him to talk to keep the noble’s mind alert. But after another hour of traveling, Sylvain was mumbling his answers to Felix’s stupid questions and the noble had to hold the half-dead Gautier noble with one arm to keep him sitting upright.

Felix was also running low on energy, he wasn’t as used to traveling in weather like this on his own. He was just as cold as Sylvain was, and he was afraid. The snowstorm covered most of the tracks the horse had made, and the animal they rode was growing tired itself. 

They both really could’ve died on that mountain that night and fulfilled that promise early. But again, maybe there was a goddess. Glenn’s search party had spotted the horse slowly walking through the snow on their way back, and the older brother rushed to their sides. Shortly after, Rodrigue joined them, and it was a race to get the two young and somewhat foolish nobles back to the safety and warmth of the estate.

Felix was lucky to walk away with a slight cold and a lecture from his brother and father, but Sylvain? He was lucky to wake up at all. Early stages of hypothermia had settled in on his feet and hands, and ice had crystalized on his blue-tinted lips, under his nose, and by his eyes. Glenn said that Sylvain looked like a corpse, and he probably wasn’t too far off from being one when they brought him home.

He remembers waking up in his bed, surrounded by healers, his mother and father, and Miklan putting on that same act of being a good brother. His parents had gotten the best healers they could buy, obviously because they didn’t want their prized Crest son to be scarred or sick in any way. Good job to them, Sylvain supposed. They were able to heal his fractured arm all those years ago to a degree where there wasn’t even a scar left, and they kept him alive and managed to get his blood flowing again after he had been brought home. There’d be no evidence that Sylvain was ever sick in the first place.

The excuse this time? Sylvain said he got lost after falling from his horse. And he saw Felix’s look of anger at Miklan as he spun that lie.

As the Fraldarius family were set to leave, Felix slammed his foot down and demanded to stay until Sylvain was better. Glenn frowned, saying that his brother would get Sylvain sick if he did. But Felix, being stubborn, begged to stay until he knew his friend was better. Rodrigue and Glenn tried to stand their ground, but as Felix said years later, “They would’ve had to physically drag me out of there to get me to leave, and even then I’d still probably come back on my own.”.

So they caved, and they let Felix spend the night. The Gautier parents didn’t care, they were more concerned with the life of their prized child to care if the Fraldarius family stayed for a night. Under the condition, of course, that Felix stayed in a different room. Couldn’t risk Felix getting Sylvain sick.

That rule lasted for probably five minutes before Felix walked into Sylvain’s room, holding his sword and partially pushing a heavy chest for storage in front of the door.

“What’s that for?” Sylvain had asked.

“Just a gut feeling,” Felix simply stated before climbing into the large bed with Sylvain.

“If I get sick because of you-.” Sylvain began.

“Call it payback for all the times you got me sick,” Felix threw back.

Sylvain made a face, “Fair enough…”

As Sylvain felt sleep begin to pull him away, he couldn’t help but move closer to Felix. He was so warm, and the only source of comfort he really had. Felix, who would’ve normally avoided the touch, pulled Sylvain right next to him and held him close to his chest. Sylvain shook from the cold, his ear pressed to Felix’s chest and listening to his steady heartbeat. He was alive and real, not fake like everyone else.

Felix didn’t sleep. He stayed awake and kept his sword hidden under the pile of blankets. His eyes were locked on the door to the room like a hunter watching a deer.

“Aren’t you tired?” Sylvain had mumbled into Felix’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Felix held the Gautier noble closer. “I’ll sleep in a little bit.”

Sylvain nodded drowsily and fell asleep with half of his body on top of Felix’s. He felt safer with the Fraldarius boy close by like he had an ally in times of darkness like this. His own brave knight in shining armor.

Years later, when Sylvain brought up the memory to Felix casually, the swordsman got a very serious look on his face. Then he told Sylvain something that, even to this day, sends a chill down his back.

Apparently, long after Sylvain had fallen asleep, Felix heard the doorknob to the room being rattled. It had to be in the middle of the night, but someone had tried to open the door, only to be stopped by the heavy chest blocking the way. They tried for what had to be an hour before giving up and leaving.

Even now, Sylvain makes sure that his door is locked whenever he goes to sleep. He wished that he thanked Felix sooner for what he did, and apologize for the burden he put on his friend’s shoulders.

After that night, Sylvain began to spend as little time alone with Miklan as he could. They rarely saw each other, and whenever they did Sylvain was on edge. The way his brother looked at him as time went on became more and more sinister. He’d watch Sylvain whenever he left the house, and the younger brother was pretty sure that he probably tried to break into his room a few more times in the year following.

Then Glenn died. The Tragedy of Duscur is what they called it, and only Dimitri came back alive. The minute Sylvain’s father had told him Glenn was dead, Sylvain was already running. He begged to be taken to the Fraldarius territory as soon as possible, but it was still two days before he got there.

The Fraldarius home was as silent as a tomb when Sylvain did get there. Rodrigue wasn’t seeing anyone and Felix… he hadn’t eaten or left his room in days.

Sylvain, despite Felix snapping at him to leave him alone, stayed. After another day of waiting, Felix finally did let the Gautier noble in. He was a mess, eyes red and bloodshot from probably crying and lack of sleep, and he didn’t talk much the entire time Sylvain was there.

He guessed that he really didn’t need to say anything though. Words weren’t going to change what had happened, so Sylvain didn’t speak at all. Instead, he just held the swordsman for a moment and spent the rest of the day by his side. Not talking, not saying anything, just being there.

It was really all he could give. He didn’t know if it did anything at all.

The next year was more or less just trying to adjust to living without Glenn. It always felt like a part of Felix had died with his brother, as the Fraldarius noble was never really the same afterward. Sylvain did what he could; offer sympathies and support where he could, just trying to be there for his friend.

Felix did get better, or at least he said he did. Sylvain didn’t think anyone could really ‘get better’ after losing someone so important. It made him also worry about Dimitri, but frankly, the prince kept to himself in the years following the tragedy. It was hard to help if the prince didn’t want help.

Being there for Felix helped Sylvain in a way, it kept him away from the house and as far away from Miklan as possible. Because as time went by, he could feel that dark sinister presence growing stronger like the smell of decay. Then his parents told Sylvain that he would be inheriting the Lance of Ruin, their family’s relic. And that, the Gautier noble was certain, was the breaking point for Miklan.

After the announcement, Sylvain went back to his room. But before he could lock the door, there came a knock.

“I want to talk,” Miklan’s voice ordered from the other side.

Sylvain froze. He didn’t want to open the door, he had been so careful to make sure to keep a distance. The door opened before Sylvain could lock it, and Miklan stood before his brother with that same fake smile on his face.

“What do you want?” Sylvain backed away from his brother.

“I just wanted to talk, that’s all.” The door shut behind them.

_ Crap, he’s angry. _

“Miklan, I-.”

“Shut up and listen,” Miklan silenced Sylvain, “I thought you said before you weren’t going to go around flaunting your birthright.”

“I’m not! Miklan, they gave it to me! I can’t control that-.”

“Oh really?!” Miklan yelled, “You’re telling me that you didn’t ask them for the lance?! You’ve always been such a good little manipulator, playing them, using your Crest to get whatever you want!”

“I’m not manipulating anyone-!”

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be brushed aside by them!” Miklan stepped towards Sylvain, who backed away nervously, “You’ve always ruined my life just by existing, Sylvain, and now you rub salt into my wounds by flaunting your Crest to them?!”

Miklan shoved Sylvain harshly, causing the noble to stumble backward and almost fall over. A move not to hurt him, yet, but to warn him of what would happen if he didn’t start begging for forgiveness.

“It’s all your fault… ” Miklan had growled, “You should’ve never been born.”

“I’m so-.”

He froze mid-sentence, and remembered that miserable night on the mountain. Remembered what Felix had said.

_ Being born with a Crest is no excuse for anyone to beat you up. It doesn’t matter the excuse, no one deserves to be treated like this. _

For so many years, Sylvain had blamed himself for Miklan’s fate. He had apologized again and again to his brother, apologized for existing the way he was. Miklan was his older brother, and Sylvain wanted to believe that his brother was a good person.

That’s why he lied. He lied about the bruises, the broken arm, being left on the mountain. Sylvain had lied and made up excuses to justify his brother’s actions, lied to his friends about why he was afraid to go home. He felt that he had to do it because that was his brother, and he deserved to be treated like this for being born.

But Sylvain had never asked to be born with a Crest. He never asked for any of this, to be treated as an object instead of a person. To be viewed for his Crest and not for the person, to only have people approach him, befriend and flirt with him to get status.

Miklan was his brother… but Sylvain wouldn’t treat Miklan like this if the roles were reversed. Would Miklan still treat him like this if he were born with a Crest? Would he have made his dog disappear, or pushed him down a well, or left him on that mountain if he had a Crest?

Sylvain liked to think that maybe if life was different, maybe Miklan could’ve been a good person. But right now, in this current life and with how this broken system worked… he just wasn’t.

The younger brother clenched his fists, “It’s not my fault.”

Miklan stared at Sylvain, “What?”

“It’s _ not _ my fault,” Sylvain said louder.

“You little, you’re putting the blame on me?!”

Sylvain was shaking, but he refused to back down now, “Miklan, it’s not my fault that you weren’t born without a Crest. I never asked to be born with it, but that doesn’t mean it’s my fault our parents treat you like this.”

“Shut up-.”

“No!”

Sylvain suddenly screamed, causing Miklan to flinch. Years of abandonment, pain, shame, and guilt finally boiled over to a rage that Sylvain never knew he had. “I’m done shutting up and listening to you! You’ve always put the blame on me, you’ve always treated me like I was a curse on your life when I never asked to be like this! I’m done with being pushed around and blamed because of something I had no control or say in!”

Miklan stared at his younger brother, shocked and in silence. Sylvain was shaking so much, his heart beating too fast. He thought he was going to faint, but at the same time, it felt so good to finally yell back.

Sylvain straightened, standing tall like how Glenn would’ve, “Miklan, I’m sorry that our parents made you suffer. But I’m done with making excuses for you.”

The older brother was quiet, and Sylvain shoved past him and headed to the door quickly. Surprisingly, Miklan didn’t hit him. He didn’t pursue him, and Sylvain didn’t even see him for the rest of the day.

Sylvain hoped that maybe those words were enough and that they could make the pain stop. Maybe now Miklan could’ve been a better person.

Stupid, naive, and foolish to think that it was that simple.

The next day, their parents left for something. Maybe it was a party, maybe it was for business, it didn’t matter. They were gone, and they had foolishly left the two brothers alone. The house felt quiet, just like the Fraldarius house had felt when Glenn died.

Then Miklan approached Sylvain while he ate breakfast.

“I thought about what you said, can we talk maybe?”

Sylvain looked back on that memory and still kicked himself for being such an idiot and agreeing to speak alone with Miklan.

The two brothers went into a drawing-room used for guests and other important business discussions. Miklan went in first, closing the door behind him enough where there was only a crack left.

“Miklan-?” Sylvain pushed the door open and was immediately met with a hard blow to the face.

Sylvain collapsed to the floor, cursing and clutching at his cheek in pain. The door slammed behind them, and then there were hands around Sylvain’s throat as Miklan pinned his body down with a knee.

“You son of a bitch…” Miklan spat into Sylvain’s face, squeezing his throat. Sylvain fought, scratching and hitting his brother as much as he could, squirming to get free, “You think you can humiliate me like this?!”

“Get off-!” Sylvain choked.

“This time, this time I’m going to make sure you stay dead!”

Sylvain let out a wail, ragged and raw, desperately trying to get away as Miklan landed another hit to his brother’s face.

He would’ve thanked the goddess for what happened next, but really, no gods had anything to do with it. No, what happened next was because of Felix. The swordsman had decided to visit Sylvain, mostly to thank him for the support he gave him when Glenn died. It had been a rough year of recovery, and Felix wanted to show gratitude.

If he had gotten to the estate any later, Sylvain knew he’d be dead.

Felix was confused to find that his friend wasn’t there to greet him, and as the Fraldarius boy stepped closer to the front door, he heard that same desperate scream from Sylvain.

Felix didn’t think, he just acted. He broke into a sprint, forcing his way into the house, running where he heard the screams and practically knocking the door off its hinges as he burst into the drawing-room to see his best friend on the ground and Miklan with his hands around the man’s throat.

“F-Fe-!” Sylvain choked out as Miklan tightened his grip, leaning more of his weight on top of the younger brother and causing the noble to cry out.

Felix lunged for Miklan, “Let him go-!”

Miklan waved his arm in Felix’s direction, knocking the swordsman in the chest and throwing him to the floor.

“You’re not going to interfere again, you little sob!”

Felix rolled back to his feet, agile as a cat, and ran back at Miklan. The older brother saw the Fraldarius noble trying to attack, and let his grip go on Sylvain to block Felix’s furious blows.

Sylvain coughed and choked, forcing air to flow back through his lungs as Miklan tried to defend against Felix’s fury.

“Idiot! You need to get out of here!” Felix cried.

“F-Fe-!”

“Shut the hell up, you pathetic runt!” Miklan cried, towering over Felix and landing a solid kick to the young noble’s leg. Felix cried out, falling to the ground and desperately trying to roll out of the way before Miklan could hit him again.

Felix got back to his feet and was about to draw out his sword only to hesitate. Panic was in his eyes briefly, it was unlikely that Felix had ever drawn his sword at a person before this moment.

“What’s the matter? You afraid of me or something?!” Miklan scoffed.

Felix gritted his teeth like an angry wolf, “You’re a monster…!”

“Oh? Monster, am I?” Miklan withdrew his own sword from his belt, “Well then, you’re so used to being Sylvain’s knight, think you’re brave enough to kill me?!”

He swung his blade at Felix, who threw his up in a block. But Miklan was still physically imposing and was able to knock the young noble back. He swiped at Felix, and got a lucky graze. Felix cursed as blood began to stain his left sleeve.

In the few times Sylvain recalled those memories, he always wondered what went through Felix’s head at that moment. He had assumed that it was probably anger, but he also wondered if the swordsman was just as scared as Sylvain was when he started to get back up.

While Sylvain had blocked out most of what happened that day for years, this moment never went away. He remembered it as clear as if it had just happened, and it was there that something changed in both of them. Nothing broke or snapped, they were both already broken in their own way, but something shifted in both of them.

Something gave Sylvain the strength to lunge for Miklan. And it gave Felix the courage to draw out his sword and rush Miklan, the yell he let out held every bit of anger Felix had towards Miklan, every time Sylvain had lied and made excuses, every time that Sylvain had wanted to scream, but didn’t.

Enough was enough. Miklan had not killed Sylvain yet, and that day was not the day he would.

Miklan turned to Sylvain, only for his fist to connect with the older brother’s jaw. Miklan grunted, stumbling backward and right into Felix’s path.

Felix’s sword shrieked through the air, connecting with Miklan’s face and moving upwards. Blood splattered from the wound, and Miklan bellowed in pain, clutching at his wound and screaming.

Sylvain’s fingers were stinging, and he stared at his fallen brother with shock and amazement. Did he really just do that? Did they just really bring Miklan to the ground?

The swordsman stepped to Sylvain. “We need to go.”

The person protecting surely couldn’t be Felix; he stood rigid, and the expression on his face was colder than the glare Miklan would give Sylvain. Felix held the sword tightly, his knuckles white, pointing it at Miklan’s throat as he looked up.

“Miklan… ” Felix’s sharp tone shocked Sylvain, “You’re a disgrace to your name, Crest or no Crest, and if you ever lay a finger on him again I’ll kill you.”

“Damn you…” Miklan growled.

“Enough, Miklan,” Sylvain begged, his shoulders shaking. “Just stop already…”

“I’ll kill you-!”

Without wasting a second, Felix grabbed Sylvain’s arm and broke into a run. The two nobles sprinted as fast as they could to get out of the house and towards the waiting carriage to take them as far away from that estate, and Miklan, as possible.

It wasn't until they had been on the road for several minutes that the weight of reality hit Sylvain like a flood. He started shaking uncontrollably, hyperventilating and sobbing.

_ I almost died... He was seriously going to kill me... _

“Sylvain, calm down,” The Gautier noble felt hands on his shoulders, squeezing tightly as a way to get him back to reality.

He looked up into Felix's face, his expression grim and his face splattered with blood. Miklan's blood.

“He can't hurt you anymore,” Felix's voice was more gentle, as much as he could muster.

Sylvain still sobbed, but not as loud, “I-I know... I know.”

The next thing he remembered was just sitting in that carriage, his head on Felix's shoulder as the Fraldarius noble held him close for comfort.

This time, the bruises were undeniable. Sylvain’s jaw and right eye were black and blue by the time they got to Fraldarius, and his ribs were in the same state. Worse was his throat; they were dotted with purple marks to a degree where Sylvain when looking in a mirror, could count the individual fingers.

Rodrigue didn’t say anything when he saw Felix and Sylvain walk through the door. But he didn’t have to, the look of horror and shock he had said it all. Sylvain felt ashamed and embarrassed as Rodrigue used his own healing magic to erase the majority of the pain and bruises on the noble’s face and hands. Not all of them though, Sylvain asked him to stop at his throat. He wanted those to stay, but he didn’t know why exactly. Maybe it was to prove Miklan did this, or maybe he wanted it to be a reminder to Sylvain. A painful lesson for being too trusting and stupid.

Six days. That’s how long Sylvain stayed with them, and how long it took for him to be mentally prepared to recount everything that happened. When he did, he told Rodrigue and his father all while Felix sat quietly at his side, one hand wrapped around his arm. It was a humiliating feeling, recounting every time Miklan had hit him and all the years worth of pain. But… he was glad to have Felix by his side when he did. He didn’t think he would’ve been able to at all without him.

Sylvain didn’t cry, he didn’t want to give any more to the man that used to be his brother. He was done crying and living in fear and was determined to be stronger. So he refused to cry anymore. He didn’t cry when his father screamed at Miklan, and he didn’t make eye contact as Miklan took what little he had and walked out of the house. Felix stood by Sylvain’s side throughout all of it, always in front of the Gautier noble, always with his sword ready.

Right as Miklan was about to leave, he glared at Sylvain and Felix. His face was bandaged from where Felix had struck him, but it did little to lessen his intimidation.

“I’ll be back. I’ll make you both suffer for taking everything away from me. You did this to me, little brother. Never forget that this is your fault.”

Those were the last words Miklan ever said to Sylvain as he marched out of the house, and vanished from his life.

Sylvain never really felt completely safe in the wake of everything that happened. He always expected to hear someone try to break into his room at night, and he was uneasy about sticking his head over things like bridges and cliffs. He didn’t think he could ever be the same after everything that had happened to him.

Word eventually found a way to Ingrid and Dimitri, and the first thing they did was ask him if he was okay. They treated him like he was about to break at any second, which got a bit annoying as time went on, but he knew that they cared. Eventually, Sylvain was able to get back to the way he was; Flirtatious, easy-going, a bit of a slacker, and a little shallow. But always prepared to fight for his friends.

However, as much as he wanted to move on, the guilt still clung to his back for being responsible for what happened to Miklan. And as gross as it was to admit, he almost missed his brother for a bit, because regardless of what happened, that man had been his brother. Through the lies, they had their memories.

But thankfully, Felix was never too far away to remind him harshly that he needed to move on. Despite the two of them seeing each other less and less in the two years following, Felix’s opinions on moving on never changed. A bit cold, however, Sylvain thought it was better to be told the ugly truth in the aftermath of it happening instead of pretty lies to make him feel better. The ugly truth that Miklan abused and manipulated him, tried to kill his own brother, all because Sylvain had a Crest and he didn’t.

Still… even now as he thought back to it, he couldn’t blame Miklan for his grudge.

Sylvain had to laugh bitterly at that reality; what a foolish world they lived in that valued Crests so much that his own parents cast his brother aside. A world where he flirted around with women, and sometimes men because he’d be married off because of his Crest regardless, so might as well mess around a bit.

Now years later, as Sylvain sat in the Blue Lion’s classroom, his class was ordered to take down Miklan and his group of bandits. Sylvain actually laughed when hearing it, causing Byleth to look at him with concern as his laughs bordered hysteria. It was like some stupid opera story; two brothers fighting for the Lance of Ruin after being separated for so long.

The day before the mission, Sylvain went to the training grounds to practice his lance technique. He stayed there for the majority of the day, working until his arms and legs were complaining. But it still did nothing to ease the anxiety writhing in his gut.

“Since when do you ever train?” A cold voice somewhat chastised him. 

Felix stood in the entrance for the training grounds, watching him with a stone-cold expression.

“How long were you watching?” Sylvain frowned.

“Not long,” Felix walked through the small area and to the rack with training swords lined up neatly. He picked one, examined it, and stated bluntly, “You’re thinking about Miklan.”

“Why would I be? It’s been almost three years.”

“Because I know you,” Felix stated. “Sylvain, that man isn’t your family. Not after what he did to you.”

“I don’t feel anything but pity for him, honestly,” Sylvain defended.

“Don’t even feel pity for him. He tried to kill you, and if he so much as takes a step towards you, I’ll give him a new scar to compliment the one I gave him three years ago.”

Sylvain gave the training lance another swing in the air, “I don’t blame him for hating me, Fe…”

“_ Sylvain _,” Felix said his name harshly.

“I said I don’t blame him, not that I forgive him for what he did,” Sylvain shook his head. “Damn it…”

Felix’s jaw tightened, “You’re stronger than you were the last time you saw him.”

“Am I, Felix?” Sylvain laughed harshly, “That’s what I want to think, but I’m shaking at the idea of facing him again. The idea of _ killing _ him, my own brother, makes me want to vomit.”

Sylvain swung his lance again, harshly, slamming it against a training dummy with enough force that it nearly broke the training lance in half.

“It’s just another fight,” Felix spoke harshly.

“Maybe to you, but not to me!” Sylvain gritted his teeth as he swung again at the dummy. 

“Sylvain, he’s a bandit! You shouldn’t be afraid of that!”

“That’s what I hate! I hate that I’m still afraid of him after all these years! I hate that I’m afraid that this time he’ll-!”

_ Crack. _

The wooden training lance split in half, and one end sailed through the air and clattered onto the stone floor. Sylvain was gripping the lance handle so tightly that he could feel the start of blisters forming on his palms.

Felix stomped up to the Gautier noble and grabbed him harshly by the shoulder, “Enough, Sylvain! He’s not going to kill you!”

It was then that Felix could feel that Sylvain was shaking. The look of anxiety on the noble’s face made the Fraldarius swordsman feel a bit guilty for being so harsh. But he was tired of his friend living in fear like this.

“Fe… it’s my fault this happened to him right?” Sylvain asked quietly.

“No, it isn’t!”

“Then why the hell do I feel like it is? Why am I shaking so much?”

Felix was quiet, not knowing what to say to make him feel better. Should he just keep quiet and let him vent? Is that what he needed?

“Do you remember what we promised on that mountain?”

The Gautier noble clenched his other hand shut, the hand with the thin scar on his palm, “That we’d die at the same time.”

“Right,” Felix nodded, “And I’m not letting you break that promise, not after we almost froze to death on that stupid mountain. We’re going to get this job over with and move on. If I have to kill Miklan for you, then I will. I’ve wanted to ever since the day he pushed you into that well anyway, so it’ll be easy for me.”

Sylvain looked at his friend. “Fe…”

“That dastard hurt you,” Felix looked at the ground, his shoulders shaking with rage, “He made you miserable, tried to kill you, and he lied to my face about what he was doing to you. Made _ you _lie for him. That’s unforgivable.”

“Fe, it’s my fault you didn’t know… no one did.”

Felix shook his head, his expression determined. “There’s only one person who deserves blame, and that’s the monster we’re fighting tomorrow. And I will make sure you don’t have to fight him alone, not again. Not _ ever _ again.”

Again, Sylvain suddenly felt his heartbeat quicken at those words. “F-Felix, I…”

The two nobles were silent for a very long moment. Much like they had been when Sylvain sat with Felix when Glenn died, and when they were on that mountain.

Sylvain felt the corners of his mouth tilt upwards into a smile. “Thanks, Fe… I needed to hear that.”

Felix let go of Sylvain’s arm, looking up at him with his burning bronze eyes, “I’m your friend, I’m supposed to tell you what needs to be said.”

Funny enough, Sylvain thought back to every time Felix has been there to save him, “It’s always been you saving me…”

“Huh?” Felix gave him a look.

Sylvain ran a hand through his mess of hair, “I guess you’re my knight in shining armor.”

Felix’s expression morphed into shock. And he turned his face away, “Wh-What the hell are you talking about, idiot?! You know I can’t stand that knight crap!”

“I know, I know,” Sylvain finally tossed aside the broken piece of lance and rubbed at his sore fingers, “But that’s what you are to me. You’re my knight.”

“Stop saying that before I beat the shit out of you, damn it,” Felix spat, and Sylvain could’ve sworn he saw a slight shade of rose to his cheeks.

Sylvain laughed, “Sorry, last time I swear.”

He walked over to the rack and picked up a training sword. “Well, since you’re here, I needed a sparring partner.”

“Well now you’ve pissed me off, so I’m not going to hold back on you,” Felix raised his own weapon, obviously eager to have an opponent and still slightly flustered at the remarks Sylvain had made.

“Better not,” Sylvain tested the sword with a few swings. “We have to fight and win tomorrow.”

The two nobles took up their positions, and they swung their training swords at each other, both winning back and forth for the rest of the afternoon. At the end of the day, Sylvain felt better having sparred with Felix.

Stupid, foolish and naive Sylvain, even he wasn’t stupid enough to deny how important Felix was to him. Felix was his knight, whether the Fraldarius liked it or not, and he hoped to be the same to him in return one day.

Sadly though… neither of them anticipated what was to come in the battle the following day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If anyone is interested in what is to come next, I may post a follow up to it!
> 
> Please check out Gilded Sanctuary if you have time, and any critique is always welcome!
> 
> Thank you so much once again! :)


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